Meloria, I
by powderganger
Summary: Before the Courier earned her title, she destroyed five legionnaries at Nipton and let one walk away. The one she let live took this as a challenge. And when he caught up with her, as a mistake. (( sorry, bad summary, but it's pretty fluffy stuff D: ))
1. Chapter 1

_Prior to this story's beginning, the Legion's purification of a town called Nipton took place. Led by the ruthless Frumentarius Vulpes Inculta, the town which had been deemed 'wicked' then suffered a cruel lottery, with few of the townsfolk escaping with lucky tickets and the rest being crucified or killed by the Legion. _

_ As the last townsman was nailed to his cross, a recruit saw a young girl watching from atop the town roof. Startled at being seen, she withdrew a sniper rifle and picked off the Legion men too quickly for them to take cover. She left their leader alive and allowed him to walk away, but before doing so he asked why she had done this when she admitted their cause had been just. She replied she knew the Legion and knew its men, and knew she would be taken as a slave; something which she could not allow. This was a mistake._

_ The story begins four months later in a town called Deave, where the Legion Man has finally caught up with her._

* * *

Gabriel sniffed, rubbing the dust of the Mojave out of her eyes as she sat down at the bar, shivering a little despite the heat. There was an unpleasant feel to the town, but she needed somewhere to rest up for a little while and refuel before setting off across the Mojave again. It didn't pay to be picky.

"Can I get you anything, little miss?" the barman leant forwards, a lazy smile upon his face.

She quailed a little under his gaze, disliking the way his grey eyes moved over her. It made her feel anxious and she pulled her jacket over her shoulders to cover her a little more, trapping a layer of heat over her skin.

"Do you have any purified water?" she mumbled, her voice quiet and unusually courteous for the Mojave.

"_Water_?" the man at the bar sneered, his voice booming, "Sure you don't want something a bit stronger? Something to make those eyes sparkle," he slipped into a leer, leaning forwards even closer. The scent of old sweat filled her nostrils.

"No!" she said, jerking back a little too quickly, "No, no thank you. Just water, if you have it."

"Water," he repeated, withdrawing, "Ok."

Gabriel folded her hands in her lap as she waited for the man to return from the back room, where she could hear the sound of a fridge being cracked open. She began to crack her knuckles one by one, but stopped as the sound stirred a man sitting in the corner.

The whole place gave her the creeps. It was too enclosed, too low and _way _too many men. It made her uneasy.

"Wouldja like it in a glass?" the man drawled as he came back with a bottle.

"No, no thank you!" she said hurriedly, "How many caps?"

"For you, I'd say you can give me ten." He flashed another lazy smile and she counted out the caps quickly, not daring to meet his eyes. She always felt as though she was staring if she did that.

Keeping her head down, she exited the bar. She'd known it was a mistake coming to a town like this the moment she'd seen the settlement as a dark blot on the horizon and despite the practicalities of experiencing civilisation for a night, she'd already started to regret her decision. It was like Nipton all over again; a town of sleaze and low morals.

She broke the seal of the water bottle and took a sip. At least the woman at the motel had seemed nice, in a motherly, coddling kind of way. She'd been the one who'd pointed Gabriel in the direction of the bar for water – not that it had turned out so great anyway.

"It's your own fault," she muttered, "He was only being friendly – they're _always _only being friendly, that's all. Nobody was trying to take advantage of you."

_Yeah, right. _If there was one thing her brothers had taught her before she left, it was that men of the Mojave were pigs. She knew enough horror stories about what happened to girls who wandered down the wrong alleyway at the wrong time of night, thank you.

There was a shift in the atmosphere abruptly as she turned the street the motel was on. It was the last street out of town, open right up the Mojave with banks rising up abruptly at either side. Suddenly, she felt eyes upon her and jerked, taking her sniper rifle off her back and holding it ready in her arms, checking the clip was full.

A flash of red, in the corner of her street and she tensed. _Legion _red; if they Legion were here in Deave she'd have to scram, before they knew she was onto them. It paid to be paranoid: she'd seen the sleeve of a Frumentarius around Primm when she was passing through once and had left the town without a second spared. _And she'd gotten away_. All she had to do was not let them know she was so close…

The Frumentarius's hand shot into the air, the signal that the target walked into the street and the ambush could be sprung. There was a crack and he glanced down, shocked to find his chest glowing red besides the Legion uniform. She'd _shot_ him.

Gabriel _ran; _her heart thundering in her chest as she clambered over the bank, fleeing the town for the Mojave. They'd found her _again_: how did they keep find her? She hardly ever stopped in towns, she moved out on the open wastes and yet _the Legion kept finding her_.

She shouted out as she was knocked to the ground, running straight into another Legionary as she was occupied with looking over her shoulder. It was _him_, the man with the stupid hat who'd she'd let walk away in Nipton, he was here, _in Deave. _He'd found her.

"How good of you to stop by." His voice swam through the air like an oil slick, "I feel as though there was so much more to discuss than how we left it in Nipton."

Gabriel drew her arm back, hoping to shove the heel of her palm into the man's face; to bust the nose as she'd been taught. He caught her wrist, finding her attempt at struggle amusing.

"I let you go," Gabriel quivered as the man's grip bit into her wrist, "You let me go."

A hiss erupted behind them, cutting off Vulpes's rebuke as a Giant Radscorpion reared up, coming down from over hills. The Frumentarii spun around, whipping out his Ripper as she seized the blessed distraction, darting away, her feet pounding the hard ground beneath her. She had to get away, again, she had to get-

A Recruit jumped out from behind the bank, blocking her path with a machete in hand. They were so _quiet_, how had they known exactly where she'd been going, where to put the ambush?

She shot him in the leg and apologised just as two more appeared; _where were they all coming from? _She didn't have the time to shoot them all before more emerged, their weapons catching in the dying sunlight.

Gabriel dived over the bank, groaning as her body smacked down onto the cracked tarmac below, grazing her elbows. A recruit appeared to the left of her and she turned, just as he struck out, his machete whirling through the air to impale her thigh.

She shouted, her leg collapsing beneath her and her palms biting the dirt, scraping the skin from her hands. She staggered to her feet, biting back the tears as she prepared to run again when abruptly a Frumentarius slammed into her, almost breaking her arm with the force.

"_Ha_," Vulpes hissed through the material of his face wrap. She could feel the edge of the Ripper digging into her side, cutting through the material of her clothes. It bit into her skin, drawing a line of blood. "I would recommend not moving another inch," he dragged her to her feet, his hand curled around the back of her neck, "_Slave_."

* * *

**A.N: **_just in case you didn't guess, Deave isn't a real place in game, just some one-street town i made up. also i've messed with the timeline a bit + the courier isn't courier yet but nipton happened. that's it, + thanks for reading!^^_


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel tugged at the rope on her wrist, straining the cord as far as it would go from where it was wrapped around the metal peg, dug into the ground. Red marks began to appear as she twisted, her pale blonde hair sticking to her forehead in the heat.

She knew it was bad: she could see that this was the worst situation she could be in; the situation she'd tried to avoid ever since walking into the Mojave. _Tied up_ in a _man's _tent, a man who thought of her currently as a _slave _and as property he'd won fair and square by conquest. And worse still, she'd already hurt his pride when she'd shot his unit down from the rooftop in Nipton.

What if he expected some kind of retribution?

She started as the Legion man entered the tent, making the space seem even smaller with him in it. She tried to scrunch back into a corner, hoping to distance herself from him for as long as she could.

Vulpes set down the bucket of water, ignoring the fact that the girl was trying to gnaw at her bindings and wriggle her wrists free. He'd tied them himself, she wasn't going anywhere.

Slowly, he washed his face, bringing the lukewarm water up to wipe the heat and dirt of the Mojave from his skin. He ran his hand through his hair, sending droplets skittering over his skin.

"Would you like to wash?" he asked, his eyes trailing over her body as she brought her arms up to cover herself; "I can wash you, if you like."

Gabriel didn't reply, turning her head away so as not to look at the Frumentarius at the other side of the tent.

"I have some of your things here," he said, dropping her bag of possessions down onto the floor. Several of the contents inside crunched and he smiled; "Would you like them back?"

Gabriel ignored him; this he was beginning to expect and he sat down at the other side of the room on the bedroll, setting the knapsack down beside him. He flipped the lid and drew out the first handful of possessions.

He tutted as he dumped a handful of metal onto the floor, "_Knives_. I wouldn't expect a nice girl like you to carry such things. I am very disappointed in you," he flicked through the contents, pulling out a strange amount of impractical artefacts: biros, a roll of masking tape, copper wiring, a feather, coloured pencils, a purse of pre-war coins. He tossed the objects to the floor, hoping to spark some kind of reaction from her. "Why do you carry so much junk in your bag?"

Vulpes almost missed her muttering; "It's not junk."

He threw a radio out next, tossing it so haphazardly that it landed within reach of Gabriel's foot. She dragged it over, catching the handle with her toes and leaning forward to check the damage, attempting to cover her concern. The radio had been a present from her brother Mikhail for her eleventh birthday and she didn't have many souvenirs of her family for the Frumentarius to break.

Vulpes watched her out of the corner of his eye as he dug deeper into the bag. She didn't seem as scared as he'd expected, more… uneasy, particularly whenever he drew within any distance of her. He smiled at her from across the room and she shrank away, like a flower quivering in the Mojave wind. _Good_. She should be cautious of him: without her gun and a building between them, he had nothing to stop him doing what he willed. He could have her at any moment she liked and she wouldn't know when. She wouldn't be able to stop it.

Vulpes enjoyed the immense feeling of power his conquest gave him.

His fingers found something he hadn't expected and he withdrew his hand from the bag. _A book. _"What is this?" he ran his fingers over the dark leather of cover, the shape on the cover familiar to him as the way the shape of crucifix: the way he'd often have his men punish profligates and degenerates.

"What is this?" he asked.

"A holy bible," she murmured, turning the radio over in her hands as she inspected it; another way she didn't meet his eyes he noticed. He hadn't even seen the colour they were properly yet, she kept her head down so often. He watched her twisting a dial for a moment before the thing slipped into the Mojave station, a wasteland song beginning to play softly; Johnny Guitar.

He made a noise of distaste and dropped the book to the floor, the dirt impacting around it. He held up the other book he'd pulled out, running his eyes over the cover. It was slimmer than the bible, the cover pale yellow with a pattern of tiny green starbursts, in neat uniform lines. There was a label in the middle of the cover and written upon it in handwriting so decorative it was all he could do to understand it, he read: "_Gabriel Markov's Field-Guide to the Mojave Wastes & Surrounding Areas_."

Vulpes flipped the book open, skimming over the pages he couldn't read for the handwriting's style: joined up, as though the writer had taken penmanship lessons. It wasn't a storybook as he'd expected but a book someone had written themselves and by the frequent mentions of dates, a kind of diary of the Mojave. There were small drawings in the corners of pages; Brahmin, the map of a town, a caricature of a barman, a set of NCR rangers. Taped besides the words were sometimes coins, newspaper clippings, flowers and an old world photograph. The Frumentarius's thumb skimmed over these, flicking to closer to the end of the book where he recognised a scene, drawn with biro and red pencil.

It was the main street of Nipton, alight with fires and Legion men, crucifixes lining the avenue like poplar trees. A flag, the Legion Flag, flew in the distance and before it stood a man, his arms folded, his face covered by dark glasses and his head by a fox hat. It was _him_, as he would have been seen from the roof of the town-hall.

He lowered the book, his voice softer as he asked quietly: "You wrote this?"

The girl across the room nodded, her blonde hair skittering up and down. _Blonde hair_. It was so long too, who could keep hair clean and almost to the waist in the Mojave?

"Is your name Gabriel?" he asked.

She nodded again; whitish strands flicking up and down. It looked soft.

He placed the book back in the bag rather than dumping it down with the rest and crossed the room; aware of how she brought her legs up to withdraw further from him. _Delaying physical contact_. She certainly had a fear of men in the Mojave and Vulpes wondered who had instilled it into her.

Vulpes grabbed a knife from the floor, the metal glinting in the dull light as he stabbed down, slicing through the rope which bound her to the metal peg. Confusion sparked in her eyes and he instructed quietly; "Do not run."

She nodded again and he found himself wishing that she'd speak more often. Her voice was softer than most he got to hear; courteous even when he'd dragged her to her feet with a hand about her neck. He almost felt a twinge of regret at that action; it seemed almost _savage _upon reflection.

The radio song flickered as it came to an end and the voice of the Mr. New Vegas came over to introduce the listeners to the next song; Mad About the Boy. It was funny; Vulpes had always despised the radio host but his voice now seemed almost restful as it washed over the still air in the tent; a calm piece of normality. He pulled the girl to her feet, feeling her trying to move away at his touch, expecting… what was she expecting of him? The same brutality he'd shown before, that he'd blatantly threatened to repeat?

Her eyes flicked up and for the first time he actually met her gaze. He'd assumed her eyes to be blue, to match her pale hair but they were in fact grey, like the knife he realised he still held, catching in the light. He slipped it into his belt and took hold of her other hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel wasn't a good dancer.

She could never get her rhythm right and her movements were always too tentative, too unsure about what was required next of her. Despite the fact her brothers had played music tapes throughout the compound where she'd grown up, she'd never kicked up her feet and really _learned _how her body was supposed to move to music.

The Frumentarius on the other hand was a natural; dance clicked with every skill he had: he was lithe and poised, as fast as he wanted to be and utterly confident in his movements, but despite this he was surprisingly delicate as he led the dance, moving slowly so as not to leave her behind. He held her carefully, as he would a baby bird or fledgling, his hands just resting on her being rather than holding her tightly.

Vulpes took her hand in his and held it above her, twirling her around as the next track began; _Travellin' Man_ by Ricky Nelson. He picked up the speed of the dancing a little bit; watching to see how she reacted to this. She was keeping up at least, in a tentative kind of way.

"You should not shy away from eye contact so often, you know," Vulpes took her chin in his free hand, bringing her to face him again, "It'll help foolish people trust you. Or-" he ran his slender fingers down her collarbones, their tips whispering at her throat, "Make them fear you."

Her eyes darted away _again_, the part of her face he couldn't hold still. He wished she'd give him time to read her eyes; to assess what she was feeling properly.

"As you fear me," he said, running his thumb over her cheekbones. There was a dull bruise beginning to bloom on one of them, a nick in the middle. His thumb hovered over it for a moment, and he watched pain flare in her eyes for a brief moment before she extinguished it, snuffing it out like an unwelcome thought. She had an unusually good handle on her pain, something he hadn't expected to see in a female.

"I don't fear you," Gabriel muttered, attempting to inject some curtness into her tone, "You shouldn't flatter yourself."

Vulpes tutted, a smile lifting his face but not quite reaching his eyes; "Fear is not such a terrible thing. Understandable, even," he took a strand of her hair in his hand, coiling it around one finger as he spoke before letting it unravel, "For you, anyway. But you need not worry. I have decided not to kill you."

Gabriel turned her eyes away; as though _killing_ was the worst punishment that could be inflicted on a soul in the Mojave. He knew it, she knew it; there were plenty worse things that could happen to a person out in the wasteland: death could often be a blessed mercy.

"I don't fear you," she repeated, "You're just a stupid man."

Her voice shook even whilst saying it and he laughed; the sound skittering over the still air. "Ah yes, _just_ a man. But I have noticed that you do not care a great deal for _men_, do you? Or anyone for that matter, but especially _men_. Brutish things, is that how you see them?" he was stood so close to her she could feel the whisper of his words as they washed over her skin, "Boorish and coarse, ruled by primitive desires every time they see a piece of skirt walk by on the way to the _Strip_?" as he said this, he brushed his hand across her thigh, his touch lighter than a spider's. She couldn't have even been sure if it was the breeze or not. Before she could move his hand away, it was gone from her leg, on her wrist again as he coached her through the dance.

"I'm not stupid," she said, her voice not as strong as she would have liked, "I've been told how they'd see me, or any other girl. I know what men _do_." Gabriel was determined to prove she wasn't entirely innocent to the prospect of what men did to girls caught on dark streets, but even so she couldn't bring herself to speak the words. _Sex. Touching, the feeling of men's fingers on a girl's body. Unwanted. Unasked for._

"You are_ so_ innocent, aren't you?" he ran his fingertips along her jawline, "So chaste. How have managed to survive in the Mojave so long? I imagine a great deal of those _men _you avoid must see you and want their sordid way with you. That bartender did, I could see that from across the way. Tell me, have any of them been successful in their _pursuits_?"

Gabriel frowned, pushing him away as he brought himself ever closer to her. His grip abruptly tightened, his fingers snapping shut about her wrists. "Now, now. If I am to remain gentle you must answer my questions and not act with insolence. Have any of them _had _you?"

Gabriel was blushing furiously at this point, her discomfiture at the question bringing a redness to her skin that the Mojave sun never had. "Every time a man got so near, he hasn't taken another step. Something like that happened in Nipton as well, when a Legion man looked the wrong way and got shot." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them and she was surprised and secretly thrilled by her own brazenness.

Vulpes discarded the jibe, taking the message from it as he ran his fingers along her arm, spinning her slowly; "Interesting. I did not think there were any virgins left in the Mojave," his lips brushed against the side of her neck, "And yet - here you are."


	4. Chapter 4

The adrenaline which had been holding down the pain in Gabriel's leg abruptly wore off and her eyes screwed shut as the machete wound bit into her, hot and angry. She'd presumed the stab wound had been shallow when she'd first gotten it, but now she wasn't so sure and her eyes flicked down, checking the thin strip of cloth which a Legion man had wound around her leg.

Vulpes saw her eyes move and immediately crouched down, moving her dress up slightly to check the stab wound. The make-shift bandage was bright crimson now, and had become so saturated with her blood it was beginning to leak, tiny rivulets of red running down her leg like tears.

He sighed, pushing her down gently to sit on the bedroll. "I'd rather you tell me when you are in an inordinate amount of pain," he sighed, "If you were to die now, it would irritate me immensely."

He pulled a pouch of healing powder from his waist, dropping into her palm as he withdrew a roll of clean bandages from his pack. "Eat." He instructed.

Gabriel pulled the drawstring, looking in at the pale white dust. It looked like flour, only its crystals were a little thicker and whiter, with occasional green plant-like specks. She pinched some between her fingers and chewed, blanching at the familiar bitter taste.

"Eat all of it," Vulpes said impatiently as he unwound the old bandages from her leg. Fresh blood poured from the wound and Gabriel had to steel herself not to cry out from the pain as the Frumentarius cleaned the cut with a damp cloth.

Vulpes glanced up as Gabriel poured the rest of the bitter powder into her mouth. At least she wasn't complaining at the taste as many profligates did on their first sampling, used to the easiness of stimpacks and degenerate med-x. Those who complained at treatment did not deserve it.

Vulpes swore inwardly as he looked at the cut, wondering which of his men had done it. It had been necessary and the thing which had led to her capture, but even so it was deeper than he'd first thought. He cut the roll of bandages with his knife and held out a strap of leather from his pack for her to bite down on.

She shook her head, "I'll be ok," her voice trembled even as she said the words.

Vulpes rolled his eyes, forcing the strip of leather into her mouth and clamping her teeth shut around it. He pushed her dress further up, ignoring her muffled protests as he began to dress the wound, sprinkling a little healing powder on the cut before binding it up, sealing up the injury. Gently, he tugged the hem of her dress back down, covering her up a little more.

"Hm," he leant forward to pull the leather strap from her mouth, "We will sleep now, I think." He kept one hand resting on her leg to stop her from drawing them up into her body.

"Do you sleep in the same dress?"

She shook her head, pinkness returning to her cheeks. "If I'm inside I normally sleep in just my underwear. But I –"

"Then you may do that," he moved to lie on the bedroll with his back to her, signalling he wasn't going to watch her undress. Ordinarily, he would sleep naked, but the prospect seemed almost rude with Gabriel beside him and he lay down in full Legion armour, staring at the ceiling above.

Gabriel turned away to the most distant corner of the room, fumbling with her pale dress and letting her jacket slip from her shoulders. The blood from her leg had seeped into the very edge of her dress and she would have sworn if she'd been the type to. She'd _loved _that dress; it had been pre-war lace, given to her by her oldest brother Alexei on the same day Mikhail had given her the radio. It was like the Mojave was slowly seeking to destroy all the good things she'd been given.

It _was _more comfortable standing in the tent in just her bra and knickers, but despite the still thick heat, she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She felt too exposed, too open, too unprotected. She couldn't _do it_.

Then again, she couldn't stay standing for much longer either. Already she was beginning to sway and she plucked her jacket up from the floor, wrapping it around her shoulders as she perched on the end of the bedroll, as far from the Legion man as it was possible to be.

Gabriel tensed up as Vulpes turned about, expecting the Legion man to try something. She was surprised as his hand gently pulled her into him, curling her under his arm and bringing her closer to him. She hesitated for a moment, then conceded, resting her head on his chest, feeling it rise and fall and the faintest vibration of a heart beat from inside. It felt real.

Vulpes wanted to kiss her. He didn't know why, he wasn't sure if he'd ever even kissed anyone before. He'd certainly never kissed the slave girls when he took them for entertainment; he'd had no inclination to; they were to be used and nothing more. And whilst he'd called Gabriel a slave when he'd first taken her, she wasn't yet, not really. He wasn't going to collar her and he didn't want to tie her up either. But he did want to kiss her.

So, so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N: **_sorry about the delay in posting this!_

* * *

Gabriel had forgotten almost forgotten about the stab wound until she started walking again.

It dragged at her leg, pulling it back and slowing her down, making it even more difficult to match the furious pace of the Frumentarii. Vulpes had given her some healing powder for breakfast which had helped, but as the midday sun approached it was beginning to wear off, her speed decreasing as the pain increased. She wondered if he'd allow her any more healing powder. He seemed to vaguely care about the condition of her wound.

Vulpes Inculta appeared before her, crossing his arms as she almost fell down in the dirt due to exhaustion. She hadn't realised she'd fallen so far behind and looked back to see the Frumentarius who closed up the group waiting only a few metres away.

"You are not moving quickly enough," he sighed, "You are slowing down my unit."

"I'm sorry," Gabriel apologised before she could stop herself. She was cautious in case they decided to collar her as she'd seen them do from a distance before, or drag her along by a rope. "If you have any crutches, I could go a little f-faster."

Vulpes knelt beside her to check her wound, the Mojave sun glinting off the darkness of his glasses. The redness had begun to dry a little, but it was still bleeding profusely and he sighed. The injury was being a lot more problematic than he'd first thought.

"The Legion do not carry crutches," he said, handing her another pouch of healing powder, "It is not in our interests to assist those who are weak."

"Then why help-me?" Gabriel asked, her words broken as she struggled to focus and push the pain out of her mind, trying to think as Mikhail had instructed her when she'd broken her leg. Pain only existed to alert the body to harm, otherwise you could bleed all you like and not notice you had a knife sticking out of your shoulder. But once it had been acknowledged, it shouldn't be given any more attention. She only had to keep her mind from it and it would hurt so much less.

"I am not helping you," Vulpes muttered as he changed her bandages, "I am simply looking after what is mine." He straightened up, staring down at the hunched, injured body of the pale girl, her body a stark contrast to the Mojave dirt. He was absurdly grateful she could not see the emotions in his eyes for a moment; it made it easier for him to think. He held out a hand to tug her to her feet.

He brushed a strand of fair hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear. "How much farther can you travel?"

Gabriel wanted to rebuke she could travel as far as she liked and certainlyas far as any Legion man but she didn't. She pressed her lips together, her eyes averted as she shrugged. "I don't know," she mumbled.

"We are a day and a half from Cottonwood Cove, at the pace of the Legion. Which you are woefully unable to uphold." He turned his back to her, gesturing impatiently with his thumb for her to climb on.

"Oh," Gabriel's eyebrows shot up in surprise and she hesitated, before bringing herself to step forward. Reaching up she used the last of her energy to clamber onto the Frumentarius' back, wrapping her arms about his neck. The fox hat he wore prickled, as though the deceased creature was unhappy with her being there. She screwed her eyes shut and tried not to think.

Vulpes was smiled slightly, glad when he felt her arms wrap tighter around his neck, her body secure against his. He didn't want her falling off along the way.

* * *

"_Maybe you're cold, but you can be so warm inside." _The voice of the woman sang softly, her words playing through the thick heat of the Mojave evening.

Gabriel tucked her legs up so she could rest her notebook on them and pulled a blue biro out of her knapsack.

She was sitting on the bedroll in Vulpes's tent again, the group of Frumentarii having set up camp for the night. It was the final camp they'd make she'd been told, before they would re-join with Cottonwood Cove, and on from that, the Fort itself.

_The Fort_, she wrote as a heading at the top of the page. _We are almost to the Fort, but I am not going to go. It won't come to that. I can't be there. _

She rolled the end of the biro in-between her fingertips, savouring the moment alone. There wasn't anything she could make trouble with in the tent really, and the Legion were all just outside so it wasn't as though she could _go_ anywhere. She took that as the reason why she hadn't been tied up.

Gabriel pressed down with the ballpoint so hard that ink splurged about the tip. _**There will be a way. **__God will provide._

The tent flap parted and the Frumentarius ducked inside, tearing off his hat and tossing it to the floor. He folded his sunglasses away as Gabriel snapped the book shut and hugged it to her body, hiding the pages.

Vulpes placed a bucket of water down beside her, pulling a roll of bandages and a pouch of healing powder out of his pack. He'd almost used his entire supply of medicine on her now – not that he often had cause to use it, but it was impractical to have a pack without it. It was good that they had almost reached their destination.

He could feel her watching him out of the corner of his eye as he changed her bandages, dabbing at the dark congealing blood with a damp cloth. He knew should he look up her eyes would dart away immediately, like a mayfly over water; skittish and shy.

Gabriel could feel his fingers brushing the hem of her dress away and flinched instinctively; a movement which was scolded by the Frumentarius as he finished dressing her wound. Vulpes's eyes flickered up as he pulled her dress back down, searching her face as she looked away, clutching something to her chest.

"Give it to me," Vulpes said, holding out a hand.

"What-" Gabriel's frowned protectively, hugging the book tighter, "No."

"I have been very lenient with you, I hope you have noticed," he said, "I'd hate for that to have to change. You know, I can be very cruel if displeased. That is not a game you are strong enough to play, I don't think," he punctuated the last few words by slowly tightening pressure on her leg wound, seeing the pain spark in her eyes before she snuffed it out, hugging the book tighter to her chest.

He saw a glint of defiance and his gaze hardened. Ever the Frumentarius, he discarded physical pain as a weakness he could exploit and moved onto her primary flaw. _Close contact_.

He took her face in one hand, tired of having to redirect her gaze back to him. She was going to have to learn how to hold eye-contact some time or other and it was better that she start now.

Vulpes tore the book from her fingertips: _it _was no longer the primary focus of his concern, her insolence was. He began to unbuckle his armour, seeing anxiety and then fear flash in her eyes as each piece fell to the floor, until he only wore a light shirt and his Legion kilt. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, tugging her to her feet as she tried to pull away.

Vulpes positioned himself behind her and skimmed his hands over her shoulders, sliding the jacket she wore from them to fall to the ground in a puff of dirt.

"Look to me," he scolded gently, "That is all I ask, that you meet my eyes. It is so verytiresome to have you scuttling away every time I turn my gaze to you." He slid a finger down her neck, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin. He pressed his lips to it, "I do not wish to be cruel to you."

Gabriel could feel his body pressing into hers and tried to still her trembling enough to speak. He placed a cool hand over her mouth.

"I'd advise thinking before you speak," Vulpes murmured, his words playing over her skin. "And if you should answer try to remember that _I_ own you. In every sense of the word." He spun her around to face him, his eyes lingering over her features.

"Eyes to me," Vulpes said softly as he moved forward, closing the distance of centimetres between them. His expression was almost tender as he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her at last. She was perfect beneath his touch; small and fragile and wonderfully soft. His hands grazed over her hips, light so as not to scare her as he brought her body even closer to him, his fingers skimming up her body to rest on her arms, trying to stop her trembling.

Vulpes separated the pair of them, his eyes flickering over hers. Was she enjoying this as he was, enjoying _his_ touch over _her_ body? He watched her lips part.

"God will punish you," Gabriel whispered.

A smile curved his lips; a wolfish grin at her comment which faded as he realised she almost sounded _concerned_.

"Mars preserve me," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers again.


	6. Chapter 6

"Why do you write like a spider?" Vulpes asked, rolling a piece of Gabriel's hair in-between his fingers.

It always took a long time for the Mojave sky to darken, but even so, the light was finally beginning to fade. They lay together, Vulpes' arms around the girl's shoulder, propping her up as she read from the book she'd written. The Frumentarius hadn't stopped playing with her hair for a moment, running it between his slender fingers and wrapping it round and round.

Gabriel didn't respond; continuing to read from the book, an entry which dated from a few months ago, in January. She hadn't been long into the Mojave then, and had still been regaling the wonders of the openness of it all, the freedom of the new world. Of course, there was still a touch of sadness too, the pain at having been left behind by her brothers at the compound, at having been forced to follow because they hadn't taken her with them. At being abandoned.

She felt herself grow smaller at the memories and was strangely grateful for the Legion man's arm about her, anchoring her. Although that he was even here at all reminded her of her failure. This type of thing was exactly _why _her brothers had left her behind, to keep her safe, because she clearly wasn't able to look after herself. Because she was too small to cope with the great Mojave. Too weak.

"Who are Alexei and Mikhail?" Vulpes murmured, nudging her as she stopped reading.

"They're my brothers," Gabriel mumbled, "They told me not to leave home, that I couldn't come to the Mojave. They didn't want me here."

"Why is that?" he asked, his tone softer than she'd yet heard. She failed to notice this.

"They wanted me safe," she said in a small voice.

Vulpes considered for a moment. "You are quite safe with me. There is not a man in the Legion who would harm the property a Frumentarius such as myself has claimed. And if they did, well…" he ran a finger along her cheekbone, stroking it, "Then they would suffer. I can be quite creative with my punishments." He shifted, moving her to lie closer at his side and tapped the side of the book. "Continue reading."

* * *

Vulpes awoke at six a.m. from the best night's sleep he'd had in years.

He awoke to a cold bed.

Gabriel was gone; she had managed to slip away out of his embrace in the night. His head felt curiously light as he stood. How had he not noticed, not felt the bed grow empty as she absconded his arms for the open Mojave? He was a _Frumentarius_; a master of the art of detecting and noticing everything; _how had this happened?_

He groaned as he rested his head in the palm of his hand, before pulling himself to his feet. The genial glow of satisfaction from the good sleep was rapidly disappearing as he staggered from the tent, out into the warmth of the day. The Mojave sun had already begun to heat the earth and he winced as the bright sunlight hit him. _Where was the watchman_?

"Ave," the man who'd been on watch greeted his leader, raising a hand. Vulpes struck him to the ground without expression. The man would be crucified for this. He would suffer; the whole _world _would suffer as far as he was concerned for its part in allowing Gabriel to run free.

Vulpes turned his eyes on the horizon, seeing the shapeless form of Cottonwood Cove in the east. He had almost made it. He had almost brought her home, or what would have been her new home.

_No_. She would have always run away, he thought morosely, turning his eyes to the other shape on the horizon. The lights of New Vegas twinkled and glittered even at the early hour; a testament to the dissolution of mankind. He wondered if it had been where she'd gone; his chest feeling strangely empty as he realised he hadn't beaten her. He'd caught her and bound her, but the victory hadn't been realised until he brought her to the Fort, which he hadn't managed to do. He still hadn't won. But nor had she.

Vulpes could imagine her apologising as she left him sleeping soundly, and the ghost of a smile crossed his face. Despite herself, she would have been sorry. She hadn't hated him, he thought as he slipped the fox hat over his ears again. And he hadn't hated her.

Gabriel had kissed him back, he'd felt it. And he… well, he had kissed her.

And that, in itself, had been something.

* * *

_I was going to turn this into a long angsty fic where you would have met her brothers eventually and she would have turned into the Courier, but a rather meeker one than usual but i think i'm going to leave it smaller like this instead! thanks to anyone who got this far:3 and anyone who dropped me a review HERE YOU GO, THE LAST ONE! you're welcome!:D _


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